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Her hand freezes on my chest; she is able to read me well by now. Kayla lifts her head to look at me. “You can always tell me anything anytime. I don’t want you to tiptoe around me.”

I want to make a joke that I couldn’t tiptoe around anything if my life depended on it, but decide not to because I know now is not the time.

Staring up at the ceiling, I focus on a mark left by a sticky toy. I threw up there a while ago, but it only just fell down.

“In the shed when I was with Aaron, he said something about a scar on your left hip.” She goes still against me. “He tried to tell me you deserved it, but I knew better, and I stabbed him with a screwdriver. What he told me keeps ringing in my head, and I need to know. I don’t want to push you, though, so you can tell me to mind my own fucking business, and I promise I will.”

Kayla is quiet, and I’m scared I pushed her too far.

I’m an idiot. I push and push. People can’t handle it, but my brain just never lets up. It’s always go, go, go.

Kayla takes my hand and moves it to her hip, and I feel the raised skin under my fingers. “Early on, before I knew what kind of monster Aaron was, we were in the kitchen. He said it was an accident, that I turned into the knife. We’d been fighting about something stupid, and I believed him because I loved him. It took me a long time to realize what I knew deep down. He got angry and manipulated me into believing his version of events, then he helped me get it cleaned up.”

I look at the scar under my fingers, and something pulls at my chest. It’s so tight it’s almost unbearable, and if he wasn’t dead, I would hunt him down and kill him again.

“He told me it was a punishment. That he was proud of it.” Her eyes gloss over at my words. “Paper-cut princess, don’t cry—he isn’t worth your tears,” I say, leaning forward and licking the lone tear that slips down her cheek, and she chuckles. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“You couldn’t have prevented any of it, not even what just happened,” she tells me sadly.

“I know, and I hate that I wasn’t there to protect you. That you had no one beside you and had to build a version that protected yourself. But just know I would die before I ever put a mark on you. Life simply isn’t fair.”

My own tears fall at the thought of anyone hurting her against her will. I know she likes it rough on her own terms, and Clay can give her that, though he thinks we all missed the hickey on her neck. Not that they hurt, but it’s still a bruise.

Kayla wraps her body around me, and I press my face into her and silently cry. I have never been a quiet person, but right now I need to grieve for the woman she had to become. She holds me through it and doesn’t tell me it’s okay; we both know it’s not.

“You have us now, and can be any version of yourself that you want to be. But if you want to cry, yell, or fight, that should be aimed at Clay. I’m sure he will have deserved it.” She chuckles at that part. “If you want to walk around naked . . . actually, I wouldn’t advise that because there would be a trail of dead bodies behind you, but that would be fine. This is your life. I know I am honored to be part of it and call you mine. I have your back no matter what, and will always try to be the best version of myself for you. But please remember you chose me, too, so the best version of me is still the me you know, because I would be lost without you.”

“You are one of the best humans I know. The worst version of you is still better than Aaron by a long shot. You are perfect the way you are, Vero. You heal a part of me, and I’ve meant that from the first moment I said it.”

The smile I give her would probably look deranged to an outsider, but hearing those words coming from Kayla makes my bad days all worth it.

“I love you, Vero, and I know you love me. It may not look like the way you love Brawley, and I know that plays on your mind, but what we have is special, and it’s ours.”

I was worried I could never love her the way I love Brawley. With him, every time he walks into a room, I want to crawl inside his skin and live there. Yet with Kayla, it’s different, but it is no less intense. I wouldn’t want to ruin her skin by burying inside her; I want to preserve every perfect part of her. It’s the reason I had Banks make a wax figure of her likeness, and I can’t wait to bring it home.

“I love you just as much as I love him,” I tell her. “It’s different, and I didn’t think it was possible, but now I know it is.”

“I have you, and that’s the only part that matters.”

I hold her face and stare into her eyes, thinking about the scar on her hip and the man who put it there. Glad that he will never be able to hurt her again, and if anyone else ever tries, I will burn the entire world down if it will keep her safe.

Kayla untangles herself from me and stretches, announcing she is going to have a shower before Ares comes to find her for work.

She vanishes from the room, and I am left to think, which is never a good thing.

Or maybe it’s the most genius thing, because some of my ideas are amazing.

Jumping out of bed, I decide to surprise her, and I know just how to do that. Banks is always up early, and if he isn’t, I will wake him. He told me a few days ago that her wax figure was ready, and though I wanted to wait for the perfect time to give it to her, why not now? Throwing back on yesterday’s clothes, I sneak downstairs and out the back door before anyone can see me.

As I expected, Banks is already working, and he nods at me as I fly through his door. There I see her in all her glory.

“She is perfect,” I mutter in awe.

“My best piece to date,” he says proudly.

Banks lays some paperwork down in front of me to sign, and I do with a flourish. I have never read paperwork once in my life and I haven’t died yet. Banks loads her onto a trolley, and I wheel her out, fully covered, carefully wheeling her back to the residential area.

Two of the groundskeepers pass me, giving me a skeptical side-eye, but I smile and keep on walking. When I get home, I quietly open the back door, hoping I have enough time to sneak in and set her up. With my back to the door, I step inside and pull the trolley over the lip of the frame, careful that she doesn’t fall off.